


The One About the Red Jacket

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Misha, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Jensen's clothes kink, Jus in Bello Convention, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Rough Oral Sex, Sharing Clothes, Top Jensen, accent kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: Jensen took Misha shopping in Rome, because "Misha needed new clothes" but really, Jensen just likes to see his man in nice clothes. ...He really, really does.





	The One About the Red Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> Smut alert. Per usual, there isn't a lot of substance to this, and I'm not sorry. The jacket in question is [this one](http://dresslikemisha.tumblr.com/post/144859820343/what-resin-coated-linen-jacket-with-zip-out-hood), which appeared during JIB in Rome in 2016, after Jensen took Misha shopping for some clothes that very clearly had Jensen's *ahem* influence. Recently someone asked on Twitter whether we thought Misha's red jacket would fit Jensen, and the plot bunny just sort of evolved into a rabid porn monster from there. Enjoy.

That jacket would’ve looked fabulous on Jensen, but the thing was, Misha knew it would never in a million years have fit Jensen the way Jensen likes his clothes to fit. They’re the same size _in theory_ , but jackets - nice, tailored, expensive jackets bought in Rome - are an entirely different animal from graphic tees and relaxed button-downs. No. That jacket was not going to fit Jensen’s arms and shoulders properly. What’s more, Misha knew that _Jensen_ knew that jacket was never going to fit him properly, because Jensen shopped in high-end stores and bought expensive clothes _all the time_ and he knew what looked good and this? This didn’t look good.

“Yeah, it doesn’t fit.”

“You don’t say.” Misha spared Jensen a side-eyed glance as they stood in front of the mirror in Jensen’s hotel room. It was May, and May meant Rome, and Rome is for lovers and well… that always translated to stoking the fires of their romance, having lots of _really_ good sex, and Jensen spending entirely too much money on clothes for Misha’s taste. Usually Jensen did that shopping on his own, when he needed a moment to himself or Misha and Jared were busy with something else, but this time, Jensen had looked him up and down that very first morning in the city and declared they were going shopping.

“You want to dress me.”

“Yes. I want to dress you.”

There wasn’t room in Jensen’s expression for argument, so, resigned, Misha went, and they spent the morning trying on shirts and jackets and pants with price tags that could pay rent in a small city. Misha specifically remembered this particular jacket from John Varvatos - it had been in the pile of clothes that Jensen had tried on, and Misha could have sworn it hadn’t made it out of the store. And yet.

Now, they were side-by-side in front of the mirror, and as Jensen’s reflection started to shrug out of the jacket, Misha turned to face him, holding his hand out expectantly. He’d learned to stop fighting Jensen’s weird clothes kink a long time ago; it was best just to surrender and feed Jensen’s inner caretaker.

Besides, it was a damn nice jacket.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t… lick your bottom lip like that. It’s. Distracting.”

Misha offered an innocent shrug as he accepted the jacket. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jensen’s eyebrows shot through the roof, and Misha adopted a mischievous smile, keeping eye contact with Jensen as he slowly slid into the jacket. It was a sort of backward strip-tease that they’d both mastered over years of getting dressed back into wardrobe after a tryst in one of their trailers - sliding into layers while oggling each other, making dressing look sexy. Except… Jensen wasn’t getting dressed, and this wasn’t wardrobe, and yeah. Misha was just being a tease.

And Jensen _knew_ Misha was just being a tease, which was why Misha had no sooner stood to full height with the jacket on than Jensen was slapping him hard across the ass. “Brat.”

“Hmmph.” Misha rolled his shoulders and straightened the jacket’s collar as Jensen’s hands slid around his middle from behind, intentionally coming up under Misha’s sweater to touch his stomach along the waistline of his pants. “That hurt.”

“It was meant to.”

Misha ground his hips back into Jensen’s groin in response, and then smirked, pleased at the hardness he felt there. “Your voice dropped an octave there, cowboy. See something you like?”

Jensen didn’t answer; instead, he started laying in a line of tiny kisses at the nape of Misha’s neck as his arms tightened their hold and hiked his shirt up, dismissing all pretense that they were actually going to keep their clothes on. “Really like seeing you dressed up, Mish. Really like it.” Misha hummed; his body was clearly on board with Jensen’s plan, and his mind had melted like butter at those hot, mouthy kisses and the breath in his ear. “‘D love to make a mess of you in those clothes, but they’re brand-new.”

“Then you’d better be careful,” Misha gritted out as Jensen’s hands found his fly and worked it open, lips and tongue still busy at his neck, with an occasional nip of teeth to his earlobe.

“Mmm… careful, huh?” And then Jensen was pressing the palm of one hand firmly against Misha’s erection through the fabric of his boxer briefs, squeezing the length and applying enough pressure that Misha threw his head back and stuttered out a cry. “Thought you liked me a little reckless? A little… _dangerous_?” The pressure on his erection increased even more, and Misha found himself reduced to whimpers, his head tilted back on Jensen’s shoulder, neck and collarbones exposed to the other man’s lips and teeth and tongue. Teeth pressed to the tender skin just left of his Adam’s apple, and there were gentle licks and a murmuring voice asking, “Should I be dangerous? Should I bite you… here?”

“J--Jensen--”

He felt a scrape of teeth against the flesh, but no bite, and then Jensen followed it up with a lap of his tongue before releasing his hold and turning Misha in his arms and pushing the jacket off his shoulders so that his mouth could reach a place where the jacket would cover any marks that were left. Then he dove in, pushing Misha back onto the bed while his mouth was suckling at that sweet spot and Misha could only follow his lead and surrender. “You have the weirdest kinks,” he muttered to the ceiling, but Jensen bit down hard at that, and Misha cried out.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to kink shame me,” Jensen quipped before re-latching his mouth to Misha’s neck.

“I’m-- jesus-- Jensen--”

“ _Mine_ ,” came the growled reply, accompanied by the return of Jensen’s hand between Misha’s legs. This time, he pushed the pants down and hiked the shirt up and fished Misha’s hard-on out of his underwear, not bothering to strip him all the way. “ _All_ mine.”

He kept up a steady pace, stroking the shaft, thumbing over the head, and Misha knew he wasn’t going to last. He was vaguely aware of those teeth going lower, attaching to his collarbone, sucking, biting, but at this point Misha was completely gone on the moment mentally, leaving the frayed nerves of his body open for Jensen’s touch.

“Noo-- ng-- Jnns--”

“You know, I’m gonna put you back together after this, and you’re going to put on that red jacket.”

“I--- yes. Yes.”

“And you’re going to say, ‘ _thank you, Jensen, for caring so much for me that you like to dress me up in nice clothes_.’”

“Uhhh huh.”

“And now you’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Misha?”

Of course he was. Misha bucked up into Jensen’s hand once, twice, and there was one more swipe of a thumb over the over-sensitive head, and that was it. Misha was done for.

Jensen stroked him through his orgasm, and when he was spent, Jensen’s hand came up and he sucked his fingers clean, slowly, one at a time, making sure to stay in Misha’s line of vision the whole time.

After that, true to his word, he cleaned Misha off, pulled his pants back up, zipped, buttoned, closed the belt buckle, and pulled the shirt back down before pecking a chaste kiss to his lips and pushing himself off the bed.

He looked at Misha expectantly.

Misha looked back.

Jensen raised his eyebrows.

Misha feigned a confused expression and then, on a stroke of genius, pushed himself up on his elbows. “I do not… understand,” he said in the best Italian accent he could manage, considering a bubble of laughter was already forming in his chest. “You want me to… get it up?”

The response didn’t disappoint: Jensen pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, closed his eyes, and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were fiery with intent. “Get up, come over here.” He picked up the jacket from where it had been discarded, and Misha obeyed, not really in the mood to push the “brat” card any further today. Jensen held the Jacket open for him and Misha slipped his arms into it, popping the collar before he turned to face his boyfriend with a wink and a grin.

Jensen nodded, either pleased with the display or ready to move on from it, Misha couldn’t be sure which. “K, now you’re going to put that mouth to better use.”

“In the jacket?” He knew he sounded hesitant, and that really had no place here, but the jacket was friggin’ expensive.

“Yes, in the jacket. I intend to put it down your throat, not on your face.” He adopted a thoughtful frown for half a beat before adding, “Maybe later, though.”

Misha grinned before getting to his knees, and then he was all business - he genuinely did like sucking Jensen off, and he knew the jacket - specifically seeing Misha in this jacket that Jensen had bought for him - was adding to the desire emanating from his partner. He wasted no time opening Jensen’s pants to grab his prize, and given the hiss of pleasure that came out of Jensen as soon as Misha wrapped his hand around the length, this wasn’t going to take long. He suckled briefly on the head before swallowing down and focusing on slow, steady suction and bobs of his head. Jensen’s hand in his hair told him he was doing well, and he pressed on, taking the length down his throat.

In a surprise move, Jensen tightened his grip on Misha’s hair and held him there, oxygen cut off, for just a few seconds before he let up and Misha pulled back to breathe. He pulled off all the way, in fact, and looked up with the question in his eyes; this was something they did very well, to be sure. They made talking with their eyes look as natural as their native tongue, and this moment was no different. Misha was back down seconds later, and this time, when he swallowed down the length and Jensen’s grip tightened, and Jensen _took control_ , deciding when to pull back, fucking into Misha’s throat, controlling the movement of his head.

Misha closed his eyes and focused on the feel and smell and sounds around him, and in an instant he was lost in the wonder of his love for this man. Jensen understood him in a way so few people did; Jensen had a need to be possessive and to dote and yes, to dominate in a way that Misha found safe and comforting. He _belonged_ to Jensen in a way he had belonged to few others in his life.

He was so lost in his thoughts - in sub space, he realized, and they were going to need to address that when they were finished - that it jolted him when Jensen’s hips stuttered and he pushed forward one last time down Misha’s throat and came with a groan, holding Misha in place to drink him down until he was completely spent.

A few silent beats passed after Jensen pulled out; their eyes met, and there was a gentleness in Jensen’s gaze that had been missing at the height of this encounter, but that belonged on Jensen’s face, that Misha _associated_ with Jensen as a lover and a human being. He offered Misha a hand to assist in standing, and Misha took it, and didn’t let go when they were once again on the same level. “Thank you, Jensen,” he said, softly, and leaned in to place a kiss at the bolt of Jensen’s jaw. “Thank you for caring about me so much that you like to dress me up in nice clothes.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly, eyes imploring an understanding. He took both of Jensen’s hands in his, needing very much to establish a physical, non-sexual connection. “Thank you for caring about me-- for caring for me in the way that you do. I love it. I love you.”

The corners of Jensen’s mouth lifted, and his eyes sparkled for a long moment before he pulled Misha into his arms and kissed him on the mouth, long and deep, but lacking the possessiveness that had been there before. “The jacket looks good on you.”

“Thank you.”

“You should keep it.”

“I think I will.” And yes, they would definitely go on pretending that wasn’t the plan all along. Misha would accept the gift and he would wear it because it made him feel good, because the fans would squeal about it, and most importantly, because he knew it sated Jensen’s inner alpha; assured him that he was providing well for his loved ones.

“Maybe after a while, I’ll find a reason to take it off you again.”

“If only so that you can help me put it back on.”

Jensen huffed a laugh and nodded, and Misha couldn't resist leaning back in for another kiss. Their tongues slid easily together, neither trying to take control, both of them enveloped by the moment, and it was soft and tender and Misha couldn't think of anywhere he’d rather be than right here, in this kiss, with this man, wearing this jacket.

Jensen’s fingers ventured north from Misha’s back, and he wondered if maybe Jensen was going to try to go for a round two - but then he felt a tug and heard a zipper up near his ears, and suddenly, his head was being covered by resin fabric.

Jesus Christ, this jacket had a _hood_. It was warm and perfect, and Misha smiled into the kiss.

“What?”

He chuckled almost boyishly against Jensen’s mouth. “This jacket was never meant for you, was it?”

“With a hood? Are you kidding me?”

“I love you.”

“Mmmhmmm. Love you too, Mish.” Strong hands ran over his body from the top of his head, down his neck, and as far down his back as they could reach from a standing position, and Misha positively purred into the meager space between their mouths. “Love you too.”

 


End file.
